


Everything and Nothing and Why Does It Hurt?

by bbcsherlockian



Category: Supernatural
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-06
Updated: 2012-10-06
Packaged: 2017-11-15 18:03:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/530122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bbcsherlockian/pseuds/bbcsherlockian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel and his confusion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Everything and Nothing and Why Does It Hurt?

When everything was created, when the light and noise of life first blossomed, when days and months and years hadn’t yet been thought of, Castiel and the angels were born. There was not a slow progress from infant to adult; there was no learning or discovery of what it meant to be. One minute they were nothing, the next they were not.

Castiel stood in the light of Bobby’s kitchen; immovable, staring, inhuman, watching the dust motes dance around the sunbeams on the battered cabinets, feeling his grace trickle out of his vessels pores as he watched.

He had seen the progress of the apes as he remained brilliant and nameless, a fury and burning being where everything was power and faith, and nothing was feeling. Castiel’s father had left them all to piece together and mend what could never really be fixed, and he was uncertain. One minute he had been there, the next he was not.

Dean’s brow crumpled and the sunlight reflected off his shining face, but Castiel could do nothing to comfort him, despite his intelligence and knowledge of _everything_. He did not know emotions, and feelings and pain. Castiel did not know warmth or comfort or peace. He did not know love.

When Castiel had first walked amongst his father’s creations, he had not understood why they struggled and fought one another, why there was hate and joy and hope and love. Castiel had returned to where he could burn and be brilliant with glory no man could ever feel, and he felt safe.

The sun continued to force its way into the dark kitchen, and Castiel looked towards the windows, fighting a battle in his head which his grace shouldn’t allow. Sam could have been outside, leaning against the porch or cleaning up their messes, but he wasn’t.  
“Cas,”

Castiel had walked over the bodies of his fallen brothers and sisters in hell, and he had felt sorry for their sacrifices, but not grief. He had burned his way through the earth and fire, he had fought Alistair to get to Dean, to make him whole again. Castiel had dragged him out of the very depths of hell, he had died again and again for him, and he had always arrived when called. He didn't know how to name this feeling, and Castiel was frightened.

“Cas,” Dean said, looking towards his angel for guidance and hope, seeking encouragement and _human_ trust, wanting him to say something, anything. Castiel did not. And as the broken man stepped towards the fallen angel, Castiel fled, because he was scared and alone. Because he couldn’t comfort and he couldn’t feel, he couldn’t give hope and he couldn’t love. Castiel had not been broken; he had been torn apart and mutilated from before his existence, so he fled somewhere no one could ever find him. Somewhere so remote he could only return if he knew the way back home.

“Cas,” Dean said to the dust motes and battered cabinets.

One minute he was there.

The next, he was not.

**Author's Note:**

> So I was tired and I had my computer and there was nothing better to do. Um. I tried to write this in Cas' point of view, obviously, to try to display his confusion (and eventual realisation) of his feelings towards Dean. I always think, especially in fics, that Cas is often portrayed as a very solid and understandable character, when really, he's just a lost angel, away from home and far, far out of his depth. I have lots of feelings towards Cas. Yup.


End file.
